Paper Planes
by imprisonedONcallisto
Summary: AU, oneshot. On an ordinary but breezy day, Nightlight meets a young woman and tries to grab her attention with paper planes.


**So this past Saturday night, I came up with this idea for a oneshot. I was with my cousin and her boyfriend's best friend, hanging out and watching movies. (We saw two, in the end, on in my cousin's room and another in the theater, **_**The World's End**_**. Go see it. Seriously.) **

**Anyway, there's this short at the end of **_**Wreck-It Ralph**_**. It's adorable and is one of the best Disney Animation has actually done. It's called **_**Paperman**_**. Go google it. Or just read this oneshot. Your call.**

**I thought this oneshot would be a great way to properly introduce myself in this fandom. I have several fic ideas in the works, so look out for them in the future.**

**In other fandoms, particularly in **_**Soul Eater**_** and **_**Danny Phantom**_**, I'm known for writing AUs. It's what I do and what I know best. I have ten or eleven years under my belt of writing canon and almost five for writing AU. (God, that makes me feel old.) I see myself as a threat to canon, if I try to write or rewrite it, so I generally keep to AU now.**

**ANYWAY! Let's back up two paragraphs. **_**Paperman**_**. I basically wanted to put Nightlight and Katherine — who doesn't ship them hardcore style in this fandom? — in the circumstance of George and Meg. So… this sort of came out of that. **

…**I should just get on with it and stop rambling. Enjoy!**

_**Disclaimer: All legal rights for **_**The Guardians of Childhood**_** and the characters belong to William Joyce. All legal rights for the original idea for this oneshot belong to Disney Animation.**_

* * *

**Paper Planes**

**By iOc**

It was another ordinary day. The sun was still rising in the east and would later set in the west, as it always did. The clouds, they were so little in number that day, thank goodness. He rather preferred to _**not**_ stand under the small, wooden shelter and get soaked, thank you very much.

Off in the distance, sirens wailed and a building was being built. Motor vehicles had their horns honked in anger as taxies picked up and delivered their passengers and attempted to drive down the avenues. Trains that didn't need to stop at his location clicked past on the rails above the roads.

These above ground trains that towered above the pedestrians and vehicles were fascinating inventions. They were so new, too — so wonderful! He could not love them any more than he already did.

Yes, it was ordinary, if a bit breezier than normal.

Nightlight stood waiting for his train to arrive.

His hair was groomed as much as it would allow, falling in its asymmetrical pattern; it never grew out properly after being cut, much to his frustration. His work suit was clean and pressed, a crease evident in the suit legs. And the files he finished earlier this morning were ready to be handed in.

He was young still and rather handsome, if one liked awkward and tall young men, that is. His eyes were bright, his hair was fair, and his skin was fairer. He was built to be an accountant, in all respects. But that did not mean he liked it one bit.

As much as he _**loathed**_ being an accountant — an accountant, of all things! — it was better than not being anything at all. People in this day and age were defined by what they were, not _**who**_ they were. He was honestly tired of it all.

So, on this ordinary, breezy day as he waited for the train, he let his mind drift to different "what-if" circumstances, a game he played every day while he waited for the train.

What if he quit? What if he moved back in with his parents? What if he just up and left to travel the world? What if…? What if…? _**What if…?**_

A streak of white shot across his vision, startling him out of his reverie.

It was a piece of paper, he realized. He also realized that someone was chasing after the paper. And not just an anyone who was a "someone," but a "someone" he recognized. He had seen her many times before at the train station, though he did not have the courage to talk to her.

He tried his best to ignore her, but his eyes betrayed him by trailing her lithe figure. He caught the scent her flowery perfume as she dashed past, her small heels clacking pathetically on the ground.

She snatched the paper before it could blow any further out of her grasp. She cried out in relief, the few other prospective passengers, who were hoping to be boarding soon, glanced at her. He noted how a few men's eyes trailed after her a little _**too**_ long — although he wasn't much better.

He quickly glanced forwards, pretending he hadn't been staring, as she took the empty spot next to him. She was a comfortable distance away but the tangible need to say a 'hello' was thick in the air — at least, for him it was. He wasn't sure about her. How does one go about greeting strangers waiting for a train?

Casually, Nightlight glanced over to her. She tucked the offensive paper into her manila folder and brushed strands of her glorious hair behind her ear.

That was what initially attracted his attention to her, the dark auburn curls that bounced playfully atop the petite young woman's head. That and the yellow suit jacket she liked to wear. It was absolutely perfect for her, in his mind, and it showed off her trim figure. Not that he really _**stared**_ or anything…

He felt the heat rise to his cheeks and he looked away. He knew blushing made him look like he was diseased, and he would rather _**not**_ make a first impression on her looking like he was about to die.

"Hello."

He jumped. He looked at her. She waited, expectantly, for him to speak.

"Ah, er," he said. "Hello."

"Lovely day."

"Yes. Breezy but the sky is clear."

"I would love to spend a day like this in the park."

"That would be nice."

He hadn't spent a day in the park since he was thirteen. He had been with his family and it had been a national holiday. He remembered it fondly because his mother made his favorite pudding, butterscotch

Spending a day, as an adult, in the park would be nice, but, alas, work called. As it was, the life of an adult. One cannot escape their responsibility.

"Are you on your way to work?" she said, brushing her hair behind her ear again. It was, apparently, a rather stubborn curl. He decided he liked it loose.

"Yes. And you?" he said. Perhaps they were going to the same location!

"I have an interview today." She patted the folder in her arms. It must have her résumé in it. "I hope today I'll be lucky."

"You will be."

"How do you know?"

"On a nice day such as this? Good luck will come to us all."

She smiled and rolled her shoulders backwards, to help boost her confidence.

A train rushed into the station, a stray paper colliding with the young woman's face. He quickly retrieved it, revealing a rather adorable face. He liked it scrunched up like that, as much as he did when she smiled — though he liked her smiling face best.

She opened her eyes and for the first time he realized their color. The color of storm clouds right before a summer tempest. They were lined with thick, long lashes. She looked quite young. He wondered if this was the first time she had ever really lived on her own — that is, _**if**_ she was living on her own.

Her eyes strayed down to the paper within his grasp still and she snorted out a little laugh — what a joyous sound! It turned into a full on giggle and then a laugh — even better!

She pointed down to the sheet of paper, and he looked.

There, on the signature line, was a pink smear from the light lipstick she was wearing. He honestly hadn't noticed the shade on her lips — not that he looked there, that would be considered inappropriate! It was a nice shade of pink, he decided.

He, too, found the amusement in it after a moment, but as he started to laugh she was gone. She boarded her train and left.

He saw her smile and wave from her seat. He watched as her car sped down the track and disappeared. He watched the spot a moment longer.

He held tight to the paper she had made her mark on, tucking it into his own manila folder with the rest of his work.

* * *

Nightlight wondered what he hated more, being an accountant or his boss.

He had missed his train, something he wasn't _**too**_ worried about, seeing as how another one showed up five minutes later and delivered to the same stop as the one he got off normally. And, yes, he _**had**_ been five minutes early — something of a surprise seeing as how things were going — but his boss had glared ferociously at him as he clocked in and took to his desk. It was almost as if he was late.

His coworkers type, type, typed away on their typewriters, filling out the forms and writing official drafts for letters that would be sent later.

Meanwhile, he sat glumly staring at the paper. It was the one _**she**_ had marked, the pretty shade of pink puckered and pressed so perfectly on the piece of paper. He wondered what her name was. It was probably something pretty like Rose or Jasmine, Florence or Helen, Charlotte or Eliza, or something along those lines. Yes, a pretty name suited her perfectly, like her yellow suit jacket.

He questioned if he would see her again when he returned from work.

Would she be waiting for him at the train station? Would she allow him to escort her home, so that he could learn her apartment number and, perhaps, send her some flowers in the near future?

He shook his head.

He was being rather forward and he knew it. He hadn't even properly introduced himself — just polite conversation about the weather! Next thing he'd know, he would be planning where they would be raising their children and what their names would be. He liked the name "Jack" for a boy…

He groaned, letting his head hit his desk.

A stack of papers fell to the right of his head, just grazing his ear.

Nightlight looked up and saw his unhappy boss.

The man was tall, much taller than he was, and his hair was slicked back perfectly. Everything about him looked professional, in complete contrast to the miserable young man at his assigned desk.

"Take care of these before you clock out." the man said before turning and walking away. He stopped and, over his shoulder, he said. "If they aren't, clean out your desk and don't even consider coming back in the morning."

Nightlight sighed and looked at the papers. There were _**a lot**_ of them. He was quite sure that if he placed his palm flat on the surface of the desk while standing up, parallel to the papers, the pile would reach his elbow.

A breeze rustled through the open window, startling the papers and strewing a few across the special one off to the ide. He slammed his hand down on them so they didn't fly out the into the city below.

Muttering to himself about the building needing a central cooling and heating system, he turned to close the window.

He was just about to push the pane down when a flash of yellow across the street caught his eye. The yellow wasn't directly across from him, it was down a floor and an open window over. And it was familiar.

The young woman from the train station!

He felt his heart flutter in his chest and something twist nervously in the pits of his stomach. (Was he coming down with something? He hoped not.)

He pressed against the glass to get a better look. He watched as she took a seat — for the interview she mentioned earlier? — and started talking to an unknown person. Oh how he longed to get her attention!

Smiling, he opened the window further and leaned out a little. He called and waved frantically, trying to catch her eye. She was paying rapt attention to the person talking to her and couldn't hear him over the noise of the city all about them.

It was another reason he wished he lived out in the country. There was less noise and a surprise chance of seeing someone wasn't really a surprise. After all, everyone knew everyone else and all of their business they had to do.

Someone cleared their throat, catching Nightlight off guard. His boss again.

He sighed and sat back down at his desk. He looked at the stack of papers forlornly. If only there was a way to dispose of them quickly so he could go back to grabbing her attention!

He tilted his head and wished the papers away. He prayed that one of his coworkers would take pity on him and lighten the load. He hoped that someone would understand.

But this was a room of accountants, logical thinkers. There was little room for romantics within these walls, behind these desks, in these chairs. No, no one would help him. They didn't understand — then again, neither did he. Why did he want her attention exactly?

Instead, he started to randomly fold the paper until it shaped itself into a triangular plane. He blinked down at the once flat sheet and beamed. Now _**there**_ was an idea!

He had a way to not only get rid of the papers quickly but also catch the attention of the young woman across the street. He was a genius.

Nightlight checked a few times, to ensure that his boss wasn't looking, before sending his paper plane on its way.

It started out smoothly but then spiraled down into the street below.

He tried again.

This one made it to the building but crashed into the outer wall. It too spiraled down.

He tried again and again.

They, too, failed to reach the young woman.

The next one _**made**_ it to the building but — alas! — it went into the window below the one he was aiming for.

The man across the street looked up at him and waved. Nightlight crossed his arms and shook his head. The man wasn't happy. He balled up the paper and tossed it — as hard as he could — back across the street. It didn't make it very far.

He tried again and again and again.

They didn't make it either, and on the last one he was caught. His boss closed the window and walked away.

When his boss's door was closed, he went back at it. He tried again and again and again and again.

Outer walls, outer walls, bird, window.

The young woman took no notice of the paper planes crashing into the sill surrounding the window. Nor did she notice when one landed _**perfectly**_ in the trash bin beside her.

Nightlight, frustrated, made more and more until the last sheet of paper from the stack was gone and his hand knocked his wire holding rack off his desk. It landed with an offensive clatter on the ground.

The sound caught the attention of his coworkers. Only the few sitting next to him had noticed his dilemma before, but now they all seemed to notice. There were many raised eyebrows and even more glares amongst their curious eyes..

The man closest to him shifted his pile away from the young man, who looked desperately about for someone's help. He _**needed**_ to get her attention, to let her know how nearby he was! Didn't they understand that?

They didn't, he knew. They would never understand, critical thinkers as they were. There were no romantics amongst them.

Sighing, Nightlight sat down and collapsed upon his desk. His cheek rested on the special paper — right where she marked it. The thought would have made him blush had he not been concerned with other matters.

He jolted up. While he hated to use it, is _**was**_ his only connection to young woman, it was his only hope.

He deftly folded and creased it, wishing, praying, and hoping it would make it. He kissed it for luck — he shyly admitted to himself, right where she had kissed it — and breathed. This had to make it. It would make it. It _**had**_ to.

She was getting up and readying to leave!

He took aim and…

It sailed miraculously through the air, his heart with it. It was nearly there! And then… it spiraled down into the street below.

He slumped against the window and watched as the door to the room she was in closed, blocking her from sight. She was gone and she didn't know he was there.

His coworkers, who had been watching him, jumped when their boss's door opened. They peeked nervously over their shoulders to Nightlight, wondering what he would do next.

Perhaps they were romantics after all.

Nightlight looked at his boss. He looked down below — she was leaving the building!

He turned to follow her and was stopped. His boss stood there, arms folded and face frowning.

He didn't know what to do. He _**had **_taken care of the forms, like he'd been told, but he could still be fired for leaving early… But she was out there and getting away!

He clenched his fists. What to do?

His boss dropped more forms on his desk. He knew what that meant; his boss had known what he had been doing the entire time. He would still have to fill out all of those forms before he could clock out and leave.

But…

Nightlight straightened and grabbed his jacket.

Screw this job! He could always get another one. He never wanted to be an accountant anyway.

His job didn't define him. He defined himself through his actions and right now his actions were pulling him towards the pretty young woman he had been admiring from afar at the train station. She had slipped so easily through his fingers that morning. He would _**not**_ let her get away again.

He dashed out of the room, papers and eyes following him. He raced down the stairs, sending people and doors whirling in his wake. He burst though the main entrance and out into the city beyond.

Paper planes were scattered across the street. People who passed looked at them curiously, a middle-aged woman even picked one up. She looked at the frantic young man and immediately knew he was responsible for them, but for what reason she did not know.

Nightlight's eyes trailed the opposite side of the street. Which way had she gone? He knew there was a train station not too far in either direction. She could have headed to either one. She didn't go on the train he was on, the train station off to the left, so that meant… _**Right!**_

He bolted across the street, bumping into motor vehicles. They screeched and honked furiously at him, the drivers loudly cursing him.

He made it to the other side, bruised and hardly battered, but his frantic mind would not allow him to think properly.

Right. He remembered that he needed to go right.

He started in the direction he believed she had gone and slipped on the concrete sidewalk.

His chin hit painfully, scraping it and his hands. He had sworn that he heard something tear — his pants? — and he was undoubtedly covered in dust.

What had he slipped on?

It was one of his paper planes. It was his special one, his last one.

He straightened it out and frowned at it.

"You are hardly very special." he said to it.

It of course didn't respond, but the wind did. It pulled the paper from his hands and the plane danced in the currents above the pedestrian's heads. The wind and plane seemed to wait for him, to gauge his reaction to see if he would follow. He would.

He trailed after them; bumping into people, popping out in front of motor vehicles, and nearly falling down a manhole. They lead him to the train station.

He climbed the stairs leading up to the above ground rails. When he reached the top, he looked around — for the plane, for the wind, for _**her**_. But they were already gone. It seemed that the train had already picked her up, taking the plane with it.

He walked to a bench and sat down, slumping. He would never see them again.

He had been wrong.

Today was _**not**_ lucky.

* * *

The interview had gone fairly well and she was proud of that. The young man — the _**handsome**_ young man, she noted many times before that day — had been right. Today was very lucky. Perhaps she should bring him a thank you present tomorrow… Yes, that was the polite thing to do. Besides, his positive attitude had put her in a good mood and helped her get the job.

Maybe a cake or a batch of muffins. She wondered if he like banana nut or zucchini and carrot. Those were traditional, if she remembered correctly.

The bell, signaling that the train had arrived and would be leaving soon resonated through the air.

She hopped on and just made it as the doors closed. She sighed in relief and started towards an empty seat.

Something bumped her in the back. She turned, expecting to see someone, but nothing was there. She looked left. She looked right. Then, she looked down.

At her feet was a paper plane.

She bent down and picked it up.

It was an ordinary sheet of paper, folded and pressed a certain way. She had seen some similar ones outside the building she left not too long ago. Truthfully, she hadn't thought much about them.

Perhaps this one had followed her all the way to the train station! It was a humorous idea but very unlikely. It had probably been thrown from a good height and landed at the station, following her into the car.

But wait — _**what was that?**_

It was a pink smear of… lipstick? Yes, lipstick. In fact, it the same exact shade as the one she was wearing.

"I wonder." she said, sitting down and waiting for her stop to come.

* * *

Miserably, Nightlight rode the train back home.

He had returned to the office, gathered what little he kept at the desk and left. He didn't say anything to anyone, though they all stared and wondered when he first reentered. They saw the disappointment in his eyes and his posture. They knew that he had failed at his objective.

"You'll see her again." one of them said, patting him on the shoulder. "It is serendipity."

Was it? He hoped so, he really did. But, in all likelyhood, he would never see her again and he would spend the rest of his life wondering what if he caught up with her? What if he saw her again? What if…? What if…? _**What if…?**_

He tilted his head backwards, hitting it on the window. He sat up straight, rubbing the tender spot. Who knew that hitting your head on a window could hurt?

The train pulled up to his stop. He gathered the box, a few paper planes he managed to collect poked out, threatening to fall, and started out the doors.

He made his way to the stairs leading down to the street below when he was stopped by someone.

"I believe you dropped this." the person said. One of his planes popped into view. It must have fallen out of the box of his things.

He turned and offered his hand to take the paper plane, but he stopped. It was his special one, the one that he had lost at the previous train station.

He looked up at the person offering it to him and he jumped back. He was expecting to see _**her**_.

"I don't believe we properly introduced ourselves earlier." she said. She held out her hand for him to shake. "My name is Katherine Shalazar."

He shook it, cradling the box with his other hand.

"Nightlight Starr."

"Nice to meet you. Tell me, Mr. Starr, how would you feel about going to the park tomorrow? I hear it is supposed to be a lovely day tomorrow. Perhaps we can make some paper planes with secret messages and send them off for people to find."

"It sounds like a lovely idea, Miss. Shalazar."

* * *

**Yay! It's done!**

**It was kind of cute, right? *honestly has no idea at the moment, too tired***

**As I said before, it was heavily inspired by **_**Paperman**_**. For those who have seen it know the obvious differences. For those who haven't, I highly suggest you do. It's a lovely less-than-seven-minutes short that is worth your time. It renews your faith in Disney Animation.**

**There was a scene in the original with George and the planes on the train. There's this little boy with a balloon. That was so cute! I wanted to include it in here but decided against it during editing. Yeah.**

**BUT anyone want a sequel? I could do it~**

**XD**

**Yeah.**

**I hope you enjoyed it! Keep an eye out for any future works by me here, in the **_**RotG**_** and possibly the crossover section. I have a few ideas that can be posted within the next couple of months. ;)**


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